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an iron instrument, fig. 10, and the opening is afterwards enlarged by the same means, as at fig. II. A slit is now made with a pair of shears through half its length, fig. 12, and the iron instrument seen at figv10, having been dipped in the melted metal, is applied to the open end. The iron rod is now broken off, and the opening enlarged to the same size as that at the opposite end; the form is now, as at fig. 13, a perfect cylinder, like a roll of paper. The slit is now continued the whole length, and being laid upon a smooth iron table, it falls flat like a sheet of paper, as at fig. 14.
The only glass-houses at present at work in London, are those in which the smaller kind of articles are made; as decanters, cruets, wine-glasses, and hundreds of other things. Various contrivances are made use of for the purpose of forming them into different shapes, but the material parts of the operations are much the same as those already mentioned. In some instances, brass moulds are employed, into which the different articles are blown, and in this manner many excellent imitations of cutglass are formed.
The last and finest description of glass we have to notice, is Plate-glass; this, as already mentioned, is cast in the same manner as sheet-lead. The bed of the table on which the plate-glass is cast is made of copper, and after the melted glass has spread over the whole of its surface, a heavy polished roller, also of copper, is passed over its surface, reducing it in this manner to an equal thickness over its whole area. The operation of casting takes place close to the mouth of the annealing-furnace, into which it is carried immediately it becomes solid. As soon as the plate is withdrawn from the annealing-furnace, it has to undergo the process of polishing. To this end it is imbedded in plaster of Paris, on a table made of slate or marble; a smaller plate is then laid upon it, loaded with heavy weights; water and fine sand are constantly supplied, and the upper plate is moved about in every direction, until the surfaces of both are perfectly level. The last degree of polish is given to it by means of a rubber, formed of a block of wood, covered with black cloth and stuffed with wool.
The various kinds of glass we have been speaking of, possess different properties, according to the purposes to which they are to be applied. Flint-glass, of which most ornamental articles are made, is rendered softer than the other sorts, and plate-glass, on the contrary, is made of as hard a texture as possible, to prevent its being easily scratched.
We have already spoken of the glass being placed in the annealing-furnace, which might more appropriately be called an oven, since a low red-heat is the highest degree tu which it is ever heated. The purpose for which the glass is placed in this furnace, is to allow it to cool gradually down to the temperature of the air, by first placing it in the hottest part of the oven, and afterwards gradually removing it to the mouth. For some of the larger pieces of plateglass, this operation will occupy the space of two or three weeks. If glass is not properly annealed, the most trifling scratch or blow from a sharp body, or any sudden change from heat to cold, will cause it to break. If suddenly cooled in making, without undergoing the process of annealing, this brittle property is increased to an extreme degree
Two philosophical toys, one called the Bologna Phial, and the other, Prince Rupert's Drops, or commonly the hand-cracker, are good instances of this.
The Bologna phial, is merely a wide-mouthed bottle of unannealed green glass, extremely thin at the neck and upper half of its sides, and very thick below. A leaden bullet may be dropped into this bottle from the height of several feet without danger; but if a large grain of sand, or, what is better, a small piece of broken gun-flint, is allowed to fall into it through the space only of a few inches, the
shock produced will break the bottle to pieces. If laid on its side, the thick end may be struck with considerable force with a wooden mallet without danger; but it would be immediately broken, if merely scratched with a piece of sand.
The hand-cracker, which is found in every toyshop, is a very familiar instance of this property: the thick end of this may be laid on the table, and struck forcibly with the fist without danger, but if it is grasped in the hand, and the smallest portion of the thin end is broken off, the whole of it breaks to pieces or bursts, with so much violence as to sting slightly the hand that holds it.
The purposes to which this beautiful material have been applied, are as numerous as they are useful; it has added materially to the comforts and conveniencies of private life; it has, among many other invaluable benefits, assisted the astronomer in his researches, and the microscopic philosopher in the detection of the more minute operations of Nature, among the lower classes of animals; and to it we are indebted for our chief discoveries in Electricity.
In the morning, when you awake, accustom yourself to think first upon God, or something in order to his service; and at night also let him close thine eyes, and let your sleep be necessary and healthful, not idle and expensive of time beyond the needs and conveniencies of nature: and sometimes be curious to see the preparation which the sun makes when he is coming forth from his chambers of the east!—Jeremy Taylor.
When the poet Carpani inquired of his friend Haydn, how it happened that his Church Music was always so cheerful, the great composer made a most beautiful reply. "I cannot," he said," make it otherwise. I write according to the thoughts I feel; when I think upon God, my heart is so full of joy that the notes dance and leap, as it were, from my pen; and since God has given me a cheerful heart, it will be pardoned me that I serve him with a cheerful spirit." The reader who is acquainted with the works of Haydn will bear testimony to the practical truth of this anecdote. British Magazine.
THE FIFTH DAY OF CREATION.
It is beautiful to observe how the harmonies of nature illustrate the sublimely-simple account of the Creation given in the sacred volume; how they bear silent, but irresistible testimony to its truth; and stamp it with the authority of their common divine origin. In considering that record, we find that the same day witnessed, the same word commanded, the creation of fishes and birds. The words of the narrative are,—
And God said, Let the water* bring forth abundantly the moving creature that hath life, and fowl that may fly above the earth in the open firmament of heaven. And God created great whales, and every living creature that moveth, which the waters brought forth abundantly, after their kind, and every winged fowl after his kind: and God saw that it was good. And God blessed them, saying, Be fruitful, and multiply, and fill the waters is the tees, and let fowl multiply in the earth. And the evening and the morning were the fifth day. Genesis i., 20 to 23.
Now it will naturally occur to the philosophic mind, to inquire, whether, and how far, these objects of a common creation exhibit community of character; and if the points of resemblance prove to be both numerous and striking, shall we not have turned science to its noblest end, when we make it display the unity of design in the works of the Creator?
A casual observer will, perhaps, smile at first, at the idea of tracing a likeness between fishes and birds; yet even he (if possessed of any reflection) will be struck by the generally wedge-like form of each, so peculiarly suited for enabling them to cleave their way through the yielding fluids in which they live and move. Having thus discovered a preliminary, though we will allow, rather a faint point of analogy, he may be induced to extend his remarks further; and, possibly, will next note the similarity in structure and uses of fins and wings; how, by their means, the tribes furnished with them are enabled to soar through the air or swim through the sea; how nearly the motions they give resemble; how in each species they occupy the place held fry the upper extremity in the beasts of the earth; how the wing gradually degenerates from the strong pinion of the eagle, which raises it to heights almost beyond human ken, to the scantily-furnished appendages of the divers and penguins, which, unable to lift them above the level of the water, are serviceable in swimming beneath its surface; and, on the other hand, how the fin gradually improves, from the tiny membrane, that scarce serves to direct the body to which it is attached through the deep, up to the fullyformed and expanded fin of the flying-fish, which enables it to rise into the fields of air et petere non sua regna.
A joyous creature vaulted through the air.
The analogy may be further pursued. We observe the fins in the higher inhabitants of the water, as for instance, the seal and manatee, gradually approaching the form of superior extremities, furnished with claws, which, however rude and imperfect, still enable them to serve as organs ot prehension and locomotion: while, in like manner. the bat, which forms as it were the connecting link between birds and animals of the earth, has its curious and extended wings furnished at the extremities with nails, enabling them to maintain a firm hold. We next consider the tail, which naturalists now agree is used by birds to assist them in rising or falling in their flight: in the whale-kind, the tail being horizontal, is exactly of the same use, and as these animals breathe by lungs (not, as fish generally, by gills), it is more important that such provision should exist for enabling them at pleasure to attain the surface, there to inhale the necessary supply of vital air. We may remark, by the way, that in other fishes the tail-fin is generally vertical, and is rather an instrument of progression than available to the purposes of elevation and depression. Connected with this circumstance, occurs another beautiful point of similarity. Several fishes are furnished with a swimming-bladder, into which they appear to have the power of secreting air, the effect of which will be to render them specifically-lighter than water, and thus promote their rising to the surface; while the expulsion of this air, and consequent diminution of bulk, again gives them the gravity necessary for descending. But in birds, who, living in a rarer medium, require more constant buoyancy, the lungs are connected with extensive aircells, not only occupying parts of the chest and belly, but even extending to the hollow of the bones, the air in which, necessarily much rarefied by their high temperature, gives them such a degree of lightness, as to enable them with impunity to soar to elevations, far below which the rarity of the atmosphere renders even respiration painful and laborious to us. Nor will the naturalist be at a loss to find corresponding points in the habits and manners of these denizens of the air and of the wave. While the larger and more rapacious of each, the lordly eagle, the ravenous vulture, the rapacious shark, appear solitary and unsocial, the "smaller fry" herd together by a natural instinct, and seem to seek, in union and numbers, that strength and safety which, individually, they are denied. The ease, too, with which certain species of each bear all varieties of climate, deserves to be mentioned. Thus the rosecoloured blackbird appears spread through the hottest and coldest parts of the old continent. It has been seen on the burning sands of Arabia, and in the plains of Aleppo. Le Vaillant has met with it in Africa, as high as 24° south latitude. It has been sent into this country from Bengal. Pallas has found it in the north of Siberia, in the mountainous vicinity of the Irtish, where it nestles. Very numerous flocks of these birds traversed Provence and Piedmont, in the autumn of 1817. They are found in the mountains of Lapland, are common on the shores of the Caspian, near Astracan, and along the entire extent of the Volga, and they pass every year in large flocks into the southern part of Russia. But widely as they are extended, various as are the regions in which they are met, they are rivalled by the porpoise, which in every sea, "from Indus to the Pole," is seen " on the surge, tumbling in wild glee;" equally at home where the wave warms " beneath the near approaching sun," as where "stern winter holds perpetual sway." The migratory disposition, too, is equally shared by both these divisions of the animal kingdom. The periodical return of the herrings to our western coasts, or of the cod to the banks of Newfoundland, is looked to by many as their mode of gaining a sustenance and supporting life. With no less eagerness and confidence, do the United-States men expect the visits of the travelling pigeon, which, in search of food, traverses in immense flocks the whole Continent of North America, from Hudson's Bay to the Gulf of Mexico. In these migrations they fly at a great height, in columns of some miles in breadth, several strata deep, and continue to pass, sometimes, for three or four days in succession. During this time, Audubon says, "The air was literally filled with pigeons. The light of the noon-day was obscured as by an eclipse.
The dung fell in spots as thick as flakes of snow; and the continued buz of wings had a tendency to lull the senses to repose."
There remain still more striking analogies in their oviparous generation, in the forms of their brain, in the structure of the organs of smell and hearing, in the admirable adaptation of the eye in each, to the differently-refracting media through which the light reaches them; but these would require more minute anatomical detail than could be introduced in a popular essay. Let it suffice to mention one more provision common to each, and we shall have done.
A bird compresses with its closing wings the air; this, by its elasticity, reacts on the body of the bird, and causes it to rise. For this purpose it is clearly necessary, that the wing should not be permeable to air, for, could the air escape between the feathers, there would be no compression, and consequently no reaction. To discover the manner in which this is prevented, let us take a quill, and gently separating two of the little lamina which compose the feather part, we shall observe them holding together by minute teeth or bristles, on their edges, which entwine themselves with corresponding projections on the adjacent lamina. Each of the lamina also is fluted on its upper side, and this rides, as it were, on the one above it. But, as in spite of all these precautions, accidents will occasion the separation of these lamina, Nature has provided all birds with a certain gland, which distils over their crupper an oily humour. When, therefore, they wish to restore their feathers to order, when they "turn to plume their ruffled wing," they fill their beaks with this oil, and passing their feathers individually through it, at the same time anoint their plumes and restore to order the disarranged lamina. Birds of passage are generally observed to do this carefully, previous tu starting on their distant expeditions. In the aquatic fowls, this secretion is peculiarly abundant, so much so, as even to give a flavour to the flesh; being destined in them not only to perform the above office, but also to enable their glossy and well-oiled plumage to throw off the water, which, though they live amidst it, may be said, "not to come nigh them."
But to fishes, who live immersed in the briny wave, such a secretion is absolutely indispensable, to shield them from the inconveniences to which their situation would otherwise expose them, and to save them from the friction between the water and their scales, which otherwise would so materially have retarded their speed. And has a kind Providence overlooked their wants, or forgotten their necessities? No: that Being who marks the sparrow's fall, whose eye is over all his works, has extended his care to the "finny inhabitants of the deep." They too are furnished with this oily secretion; and seeing that by structure they are disabled from applying it, as birds do, to their own surface, the gland is, by a beautiful and wise provision, placed in the front of the body, so that the very waves, as they swim forward, carry back the secretion, and apply it over the whole apparatus of their fins and scales.
Here then we pause. We challenge scepticism itself to doubt the analogy we have drawn, to deny the facts we have stated. And what less than divine Wisdom could have inspired, than divine Omniscience could have dictated, an account of the mysteries of Creation, so perfect, so simple, so based in Nature's surest laws, that the accumulated scientific observations of thousands of years can but point out new harmonies in the narrative, or add its humble mite of testimony to the truth and certainty of the Holy Record. P. B. L.
FRUIT AND FLOWER Of T1IF. CANDLEHEHRY MYRTLE.
About the month of November or December, the seeds being then ripe, a number of the natives, each taking with him the whole of his family, repair to the sea-side, where these trees are found in abundance, for they appear to delight in a moist sandy soil. The berries, when they are ripe, have a great resemblance to bunches of small grapes, and form in clusters round the branches, as may be seen by the engraving.
Each family now builds a kind of temporary hut, covered with the leaves of different sorts of palms, and here they remain for a fortnight or three weeks. The men having cut down the trees, the women and children busy themselves in stripping the branches of the fruit, which they throw into large iron pots, half filled with water; it is then boiled as long as any of the waxy substance, which the seeds contain, continues to rise to the surface. As fast as this vegetable-tallow rises, it is skimmed off, and placed in brass vessels, where it is re-melted and clarified. Its appearance, when cold, very much resembles bees' wax, and its colour is a dirty green. When formed into candles, it is usually mixed with about one-fourth of its weight of tallow; this causes it to burn with a brighter flame. It gives a clear and steady light, and, while it is burning, produces an extremely pleasant smell.
Two manifestations of the course of Providence have often been pointed out as the most distinct and prominent which have yet occurred in the history of the human race. The coming of our Lord and Saviour is one, at that precise time when the world, in its moral and political circumstances, was best fitted for tho reception and diffusion of the Gospel; the other, far indeed inferior in moment to that paramount event, but inferior to it alone, is the discovery of printing, just when the Gospel itself was to be raised as it were from the dead. Southky.
ANNIVERSARIES IN OCTOBER.
1748 The Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle signed. TUESDAY, 8th.
1361 A singular combat took place in the Isle of Notre Dame, m the presence of the King and the Court of France, between the dog of a gentleman, who had been assassinated, and the supposed murderer; the dog was successful, and the accused acknowledged his guilt.
1744 The Victory, man-of-war, with Admiral Balchen and 1100 men on board, was wrecked on the coast of Alderney, wh n every soul on board perished.
1820 Christophe, the black King of Hayti. shot himself in he palace, fearing to fall into the hands of his enemies. WEDNESDAY, 9th.
1759 Eddystone Light-house completed, under the superintendence of Mr. John Smeaton, a very celebrated engineer. FRIDAY, 11th.
1531 Zuinglius, the zealous Swiss reformer, was killed is battle, near Cappel, in the Canton of Zug.
1737 A dreadful hurricane, attended by an earthquake, was felt near the mouths of the Ganges, the waters of which ro*> forty feet above their level, devastating the country, and destroying upwards of 300,000 souls. At Calcutta, the steeple of the English church was sunk in the ground without being broken.
1797 The Battle of Camperdown, in which Admiral Duncan defeated the Dutch fleet, taking or destroying fifteen sail of the line.
1811 The first stone of Waterloo Bridge, London, laid.
1814 The Electorate of Hanover erected into a kingdom.
SATURDAY, 12th. 538 B. C. Jerusalem taken by Nebuchadnezzar, which event put an end to the kingdom of Judah.
1492 Columbus landed on the Island of Guanahani now called St. Salvador, which was the first land discovered in the New World.
1702 Sir George Rooke attacked the Spanish Galleons in the port of Vigo, and brought off captive several of these rich treasureships.
1768 The empress Catherine II. submitted to inoculation for the small-pox, with a view of inducing her subjects to do so by her example.
This truth ought to be deeply printedln minds studious of wisdom and their own content, that they bear their happiness or unhappiness within their own breast; and that all outward things have a right and a wrong handle; he that takes them by the right handle finds them good, he that takes them by the wrong indiscreetly, finds them evil. Take a knife by the haft it will serve you, take it by the edge it will cut you. There is no good thing but is mingled with evil, there is no evil but some good enters into the composition. The same truth holds in all persons, actions, and events. Out of the worst, a well composed mind endowed with the grace of God may extract good, with no other chemistry than piety, wisdom, and serenity. It lieth in us as we incline our minds to be pleased or displeased with most things in the world. One that hath fed his eyes with the rich prospect of delicate countries, as Lombardy, Anjou, where all the beauties and dainties of nature are assembled, will another time take no less delight in a wild and rugged prospect of high bare mountains, and fifty stories of steep rocks, as about the Grande Chartreuse and the bottom of Ardennes, where the very horror contributes to the delectation. If I have been delighted to see the trees of my orchard, in the spring blossomed, in the summer shady, in autumn hung with fruit; I will delight again, after the fall of the leaf, to see through my trees new prospects which the bushy boughs hid before; and will be pleased with the sight of the snow candied about the branches, as the flowers of the season.—Du Moulin.
This philosopher carries with him into the world the temper of the cloister, and preserves the fear of doing evil, while he is impelled by the zeal of doing good. He is rich or poor, without pride in riches or discontent in poverty; he partakes of pleasure with temperance, and enjoys the distinctions of honour with moderation. He passes undefined through a polluted world, and amidst all the vicissitudes of good and evil, has his heart fixed only where true joys are to be found.
JON WILLIAM PARKER, WEST STRAND.
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